


Shinigami

by yourdesertsunflower



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, F/M, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Nara Shikamaru-centric, Sand Siblings-centric, Slow Burn, Temari-centric, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25897684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourdesertsunflower/pseuds/yourdesertsunflower
Summary: What would happen if you were a spirit of death? You know, those beings in charge of guiding those souls in sorrow to their ultimate and, mostly, not that well regarded death. Wander through the earth, observing the human world, watching over them till the awaited moment where they’ll meet their end, that final breath.What would happen if you become fond of them? What'll do when the time for their death comes? After all, death is unavoidable, inescapable, inevitable.Right?
Relationships: Gaara & Kankurou & Temari, Nara Shikamaru/Temari
Comments: 22
Kudos: 23





	1. Death

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Naruto](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/666928) by Masashi Kishimito. 
  * Inspired by [Der Himmel über Berlin](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/666943) by Wim Wenders. 



> WARNING! This book will explore in depth themes like violence, death and mental health within others. I am not a psychologist but I am closed to people who are and who guided me and continue to do so while conceptualizing and writing this story so that I am respectful and responsible when framing this themes. However, any comment or constructive criticism will be more than welcomed.
> 
> Also I wanted to give some acknowledgements beforehand. All the characters aren't mine but are taken from the manga/anime Naruto and hence, belong to Masashi Kishimoto. This story's concept is heavily routed to traditional folklore as well as by many common beliefs of different religions around the world and by movie as Der Himmel über Berlin (Wings of Desire) which was a great source of inspiration for the romantic tint of the book.
> 
> All in all, having tackled all relevant aspects, I can do no more but to wish you to enjoy the story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it.

The first time? Yes, I remember.

I was three years old. Almost four. At least it’s the first time I remember. The time I met him and he met me. But one thing is for sure, the memory of that moment stayed engraved in my brain. Even to this day. The images scroll in my mind, always with the utmost of details. The memory lives in my consciousness, replaying itself each time I recall it. I visualize it to with the clearness I remember my morning routine. Everything seems like its been yesterday. People tell me I shouldn’t be able to remember. That crap of children don’t be able to tie up the fragments of information together, their lack of episodic memory. Things about the hippocampus and that stuff. Well, I am sure are you are better versed with this. I am definitely not. I was never good at explaining things either. And even if I was able to understand their point, I got to be honest with myself and my experience. I have no fear to digress with those all those well regarded men.

I doubt any child can forget the day of their mother’s death.

That day was the first time I saw him. He was walking down the hall of the hospital, approaching the door of the delivery room. My youngest brother would be born sooner than later, and my mother was already still, resting in the bed waiting for the obstetrician to arrive. 

I can’t help but to feel like a total idiot in retrospective. But, at first glance, I thought he was a nigimitama. I don’t know why, his demeanor wasn’t the most spiritual out there. Hooded, walking sluggishly, as if every step he took was excruciatingly painful. From my description everyone could say he looked like a soul in sorrow rather than an angel. It’s something I’ll never understand but, at first glance, I was convinced he was one. No trace of doubt crossed my mind; he had to be a nigimitama.

The man interrupted his pace and let out a sigh with a guilty expression. His eyes pierced me before turning back his stare to the way he got to follow. He continued his walk beside Kankuro and I to reach the door handle of the room where my mother was giving birth to my youngest brother.

It was then when I sensed it. Call it intuition or just one lucky bastard promotion. But as his figure passed by my side, I perceived the shivers invade my body. In my three-year-old mind, there was no doubt. Someone inside that room will die today.

“You are here to take him, don’t you?”

The man halted at my call. I can’t say if he startled at noticing that I could observe him, and I wouldn’t be conceited to affirm it. However, I noticed that for a moment his body remained static; stiffen as he realized I was addressing his presence.

“Are you here for my baby brother?”

I must have had been weeping for my voice crackled when I attempted to ask him the question. I could notice the icy tears running in my face, making me shiver by their soft touch. To say I was afraid at that moment would have been an understatement; it terrified me. But even more than this, it vexed me. The anger, the frustration, the impotence that I felt reflected in every single one of those tears.

I couldn’t do anything. That hooded man was about to take someone precious from me.

Solely, I was wrong about who that person was.

He turned towards me, his expression covered by the shadows of the hood. I stood there, waiting for an answer. But I never got it. He just looked down, limiting himself to continue his way through the door and into the delivery room. It wasn’t until my father left the room an hour later that I would finally understand the reason for his silence.

After all, how do you explain to a three-year-old that you come to take her mother away from her.

The following minutes were torturous. I looked around everywhere, worried, trying to understand what was going on. Worried about what would happen to my brother. I knew whatever that hooded man was up to inside there, it could be no good.

The sound of the sliding door harshly opening abruptly took me out of my thoughts. Little by little doctors and nurses made their way out of the door, covered by blood, making the way for a new group of health experts to the room. Within the traffic, I could see my father leave the group and take a new direction through the hallway and nearer us. Behind him, my uncle Yashamaru approximated. His eyes were noticeably red. In his hands my father carried a bundle of blankets, occasionally stained by what I now know was the uterine bleeding during the childbirth.

However, as a three-year-old, I couldn’t help but to expect the worst. It wasn’t until later that I could be the breathing face of my new brother that I regained my calmness, breathing normally again, marveling at the miracle of a new life.

Still, the bliss was ultimately (and as it has ultimately always been) momentary.

Yashamaru took a sleepy Kankuro in a tight embrace, tears falling from his eyes as the toddler put all his weight over his chest. When I turned around to look back at my father, I noticed he had to kneel to match my height.

After looking softly at my eyes, he finally spoke.

“Come here, my princess, he is your brother,” he said leaning towards him revealing a sweet redhead baby between the blankets. “His name is Gaara. Your… your mother chose it.”

Now it seems obvious. Every piece falls in place. But back then, I couldn’t imagine it. My naïve brain I couldn’t conceive the image of a woman dying by giving birth. And something tells me I would never understand it fully. Despite any data that any scientist around the globe can give me about the consequences of intense bleeding, sepsis and eclampsia or the different obstructions that might happen during labor, I’ll never be able to accept it.

It’s ultimately unfair. It’s a dichotomy that still puzzles me.

“Where is my mom?” I asked with fear, trembling as I managed to, little by little, hook one by one the words out of my slaughtered throat. But my father’s gaze simply evades mine to look for some help, or at least comfort, in my uncle.

He was the one to give me the fateful news.

“Temari,” he began, his voice crackling between sobs and tears. “Princess… your mother. Temari, your mother died.”

That was it. I could feel a curtain of water falling from my eyes. Even though I tried to prevent them from falling with my fist, with no result (obviously) the tears drenched all over my face and fell, being absorbed by my sleeves.

“You’re lying!” I screamed, getting loose of my father’s hand firm touch on my elbow. “That’s not true… I want to see mom. I want you to take me with her!”

It was then, when running away with no from my father’s calls, with no fixed direction or particular destination, that I bumped once again with the hooded figure. He was standing at the edge of the railing that covered the perimeter of the third floor’s balcony of Tottori’s Hospital.

It was a sunny day, but I could see nothing but rain.

He turned to me. I wasn’t able to see his face, but from his physical reaction I knew disdain enraged mine.

“Why?” I asked, wiping off the remaining tears on my face. “Did you do it? Why her? Did it have to be her?”

The hooded figure slightly moved, apparently trying to approach me, but he finally retracted from doing so and remained still throughout my reprimand.

“She had done nothing wrong. Then...why?” I said, turning my gaze to see him. Between the shadows of his coat I could notice some paradoxically soft brown eyes. Still, not even that could blur my resentment or my hate towards the hooded man. After all, everything was his fault. “This is unfair.”

“It was her moment to leave,” he simply said.

His voice had a husky tint, but still within the hoarseness it sounded laid back and opened. It was weird to hear his voice and detect some of empathy in his words, like he was trying to console me or something. Maybe I am just overthinking it now, almost sixteen years after everything happened. Maybe something in me wants to hold on to the idea that, at the end, he felt at least some pity for a motherless crybaby like me. That he held some humanity in him, as the angel I first thought he was.

“Leave? Where? They took away my mother from me...You have taken her away from me —”

“But you aren’t alone,” he said, reaching towards me. But that time, I was the one to back down. For touching him would only mean to stain my hands. Those bloody hands that killed my mother.

“Just leave! Go away,” I said with a menacing look. “When I saw you for the first time, I thought you were a nigimitama. But now, I can only see death.”

“I…”

“Temari!”

I could hear the voice of my father coming from the village. He was gasping, probably trying to recover from the loss of breath. After all, he had climbed three floors. As he approached me, stumbling along the way, he brought into a tight embrace. However, I didn’t react to my father’s hug. I couldn’t. I was still struggling with my breath, sobbing, facing at what superficially seemed to be Tottori’s sand dunes with disdain.

But although anybody else knew it, I did. And he also did.

I was piercing my eyes at his figure. That look directed at him and for no one else and the fact that he acknowledged it through his shaking body, somehow made me feel better. Call me a remorseful and spiteful monster, but I didn’t want him to leave free of guilt. I wanted for the death of my mother to be a load for him, to carry upon him for the rest of his days.

After a few seconds, my father finally talked.

“My little princess,” my father said, still holding me tight. “Please don’t you ever run away like this again. I’m here for you.”

After wiping the tears off my face, he stood up, looking at me, trying to rough out a smile from his face. I tried to mimic him, failing. I wasn’t strong enough, I never think I’ll be.

“Come on,” he said, reaching out for my hand. “Let’s go with your brothers.”

It was almost automatically after my father could grab my hand that Yashamaru reached the balcony, with Gaara on his hands and Kankuro beside him. Despite standing up and walking, my brother was clearly still at half at sleep, unaware of what was going on. He just stood there, grasping my uncle’s leg, using it as his support for not falling flat onto the ground.

Suddenly I felt a movement within the shadows. It was cold and brusque, lifting a subtle wind with it. When I looked back, he was no longer there. He had disappeared, probably returning to his place within the darkness of the world. At first I was angry. I felt like he was escaping, leaving us to cope with the sorrow he had caused. But then, I thought it better and realized that it would actually be better like this. After all, that was the place where he belonged. Away from all people. Away from my family. Away from me. A place where he couldn’t disrupt anyone’s happiness.

“Come princess,” my father said, carefully squeezing my hand. “Let’s go home.”

So yes, that’s basically it. I can’t say much more. That was when I first saw him. The time when I met that spirit of death. That’s when I met the Shinigami.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter of my fic, I really hope you enjoyed it. Any comments, suggestions or feedback is more than welcome. Feel free to comment your thoughts, I read you. Hope you have a nice day! ❤️
> 
> Tumblr: @yourdesertsunflower


	2. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The song has ended, but the melody lingers on.

“So, a Shinigami?”

Rin listened to the entire story, leaving the pen and the notebook behind. The young woman, who was uncomfortably sitting at the edge of a furrow, arms and legs crossed, slid her soft brown gaze back at her as she finished her story. When their eyes met again, Temari gave her a small nod in affirmation before pulling some loose strands of her sandy fringe behind her ear and reaching for the glass of water she had left on the coffee table in front of her; the only furniture that separated both women.

“I know,” she said after taking a quick sip of water, gazing downwards to contemplate the water. “You must think I am crazy.”

“I never said that,” Rin said in a monotone tone that left Temari unsettled.

She couldn’t attribute a direct emotion to her psychologist words and tone, they were almost expressionless. It was something she soon identified as a tendency of Rin for which had been thirty-eight minutes of session. Her dark eyes could hide with ease her thoughts from other people, and the muscles in her face only seemed to move as much as needed to speak, but there was something in them that was quite soothing. Her serious, silent features weren’t cold, but they were not open either. This paradox, maybe, was what set her apart from the get go. It was what unnerved Temari the most, even more than the unfazed tone of her voice.

“That you didn’t say it doesn’t mean you don’t think it.” Temari snapped as she returned the tarnished glass to its place in the wooden table. Her answer was automatic, almost as much as the comment that originated it. With that movement, she looked back into her psychologist.

Rin glanced with care from her to the table as she carefully poured more water to the empty glass and said, “I don’t.”

Her tone, still as unreadable.

After finishing, the young woman traces back her footsteps, sitting once again in a modest yet elegant rich green armchair, focal point in the consulting room, as calmed and composed as she left. Her expression, the degree framed and hanging on the wall next to a library filled up by books most likely written by beard old men a century ago. The sound of the paper being lifted by a calm breeze which slipped through the window. Everything seemed designed to be frustrating to look at.

“And even if I thought that, it wouldn’t matter at all.” she continued saying as she showed a glass of water for her to take, “After all, we are here to talk about you. Not about me.”

Temari declined the offer with a small shake of her head, trying not to show her displeasure with the meeting.

She had paraded through, which felt, a thousand different psychologists since she was three years old and she had repeatedly told each and everyone of them, eventually, the same old story. Temari knew it by heart; knew all the narrative word by word.

That’s the way they were. Every psychologist, even with the most varied of superficial alterations, remained the same in their core. They all tried to approach her in the same manner, asked the same simple questions; displayed the same formal gestures; gave the same void answers. She had repeatedly seen those people slipping their fingers on their pens, writing as she talked with judging eyes, rotating their focus from the page to her without looking into her eyes.

They always appeared to be well meaning. A little old-fashioned and structured, but well-meaning. Probably they weren’t trying to be rude but just holding unto their professionalism with the utmost of cares. Or at least that was what Temari wanted to believe. Though she knew that hypothetical explanation to be most likely was true, she would always tell herself she couldn’t, honestly, care less. She just, simply, couldn’t bear them at all.

“When was the second time?”

Rin’s voice echoed in her head with strength. Temari looked back to the psychologist that was back in her armchair. Still quite confused, Temari doubted a second where she should answer or not, unsure if the question was a product of her thought process or of the woman. Maybe Rin didn’t think it, but she was quite lining to the interpretation that she might go completely mad.

“What?” she finally muttered.

It was quite obvious that the question had gotten Temari off guard. But as she turned to Rin’s gaze, the uncertainty decreased. The brunette had, for the first time in all the sessions, taken off the notebook from her small bureau on her left side and faced her openly. Temari knew she had not mistaken the question, nor she had misheard. Rin had actually asked that question.

“You said it was the first time you saw the Shinigami,” she explained to Temari with ease. “So, if you are comfortable with it obviously, I would like to know when the second one was or if there were more.”

Temari straightened up her spine and gazed forward with openness, unconsciously mimicking Rin’s posture before beginning her explanation, “Well...there was no concrete second time, not that I remember. But sometimes, from time to time, I feel his presence around me. The air thickens and the shadows move like if he was lurking within them, observing my every move. Each time I get this feeling inside of my guts telling me he is there. But when I think I actually got him and turned back and confirm my instincts, he has felt - gone. That’s, if he had been there from the start.”

Rin looked at her, giving her a subtle node to incite her to continue the story.

“However, I haven’t noticed it too much lately.” Temari spouted, “At least not that much since we came to Tokyo.”

“How long was that?” she asked after turning to her notebook, pen in hand.

“Around three years ago. I was just about to start my second year of high school.”

“Do you miss Tottori?”

Temari sighed, “Yes… I mean I, I love my city. But also I do not need to return. I’m okay in here. I like the weather. Besides, I got my family. My brothers are safe. There’s nothing more I could ask for.”

“The boy that came with you —”

“Oh, no, he is not my brother,” she disclosed, interrupting Rin. Suddenly she recalled her friend, picturing the young man that was waiting for her outside the study. “He is just a friend of the family. Our parents know each other from the academy. Since we moved to Tokyo they have helped us in whatever they could. Our brothers go together to the same school. Well, he is...”

“You seem to appreciate him.” Rin said, her voice notably softer.

Without even noticing, Temari exhibited the closest of a smile she had shown in the forty-three minutes of the session that had passed. Maybe it wasn’t the most genuine display of happiness she had ever given. She had never thought of herself as someone with a photogenic smile. The top row of teeth was showing, and there was a faint curve to the lips, but there was no crease below the eyes, no movement of the cheeks. On anyone else, it would be the return of pleasantry. On her face, however, there was an honest sentiment behind that awkward grin. A feeling she could never fake.

“Well, he has always been a true loyal friend.” Temari avowed honestly “He was there from the beginning. Back then I didn’t want to leave Tottori, now when I think about it sound really stupid, but back then I could help to feel that I was…”

“Leaving your mother behind.”

Temari only nodded, “And he understood me. When everyone thought that I was just being a bratty teenage girl, he reached out for me. He also lost his parents when he was fairly young. And he also has a younger sibling who looks up at him. He can bear my insufferable humor.”

She caught herself almost laughing. It was only with him she could feel a glimpse of what had been the innocence of her so long gone carefree childhood. Unrestricted, like wind in the sky. However, there was nothing like that lost past, like recalling herself sitting in her mother’s lap as she carefully disentangled her hair into four ponytails, while her mellow voice sung at the tune of the Yurikago no Uta before the night subjugated her insistence to keep playing. Floating, flying. As years ticked by, the ponytails remain tied, the song still lingers. Recent memories were born out of each new day but the best, for her, ended years ago. Gone with her mother, gone with the wind.

“What are you thinking about?”

Temari’s teal’s gaze turned back to Rin as she noticed the sides of her lips vaguely tugged upwards. She no longer had the notebook on her hands and her body slightly tilted forwards, bringing some strands of her slick brown hair to her face, softening her look. Despite her customary composed expression wasn’t quite a smile, perhaps given the common belief of a full grin not being appropriate of a professional workplace, that little smirk couldn’t read as anything but a welcoming sign.

“He — He just seems to do everything seamlessly,” she explained “I sometimes wish I could have his strength.”

“Well,” Rin noted, making a subtle pause, a gesture that Temari interpreted as a sign she was trying to search for the right words to tell, or maybe to use with her. “You don’t strike me as someone weak.”

She chuckled with certain disdain, “If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be here.”

Rin looked cautiously at Temari, setting her gaze firmly on hers, “You had enough strength to come here. That’s more than most people can be proud of.”

Speechless. Maybe that was the best term to describe her state.

Words left her. She could do nothing but stare at nothing as she fell silent. No matter how hard she tried, how many times she told herself the thought was just ridiculous, she couldn’t make herself do something, not even to move her lips. As if stuck in a sandstorm, everything was slow, unclear and warbled.

“Just leave! Go away,”

The time went by for longer than she would normally be comfortably with; she knew that. However, her mind was blank. Temari’s wide eyes flickered, terrified by her sudden realization as she desperately searched for company. Rin was just patiently waiting.

Temari knew she had to say something, however she couldn’t find any reasonable word to utter. No matter all the possibilities she could come up with, she tripped with her own tongue, feeling as the knot in her throat just became tighter.

Temari thought — no, knew — the idea was just laughable, perfectly illogical. However, as much as she searched her mind, she couldn’t even chuckle.

When she finally spoke, much to her surprise, her voice was unusually raspy. It wasn’t her mind which articulated those words but her heart which answered for her with a shrug, “I don’t know.”

The small and only window in the room suddenly banging them wide opened against the wall as if they were its chaotic drum beat. That abrupt noise also welcomed with it a blowing icy wind spread through the space with a powerful intensity, scattering old documents as if they were the leaves of fall. A mingle of the sounds composed a not-so-subtle symphony, the song of one without hands, but that still Temari couldn’t help to think was surprisingly beautiful, dare say idyllic.

Surprised by the unexpected interruption, Rin went back towards the window and block it before joining Temari who was already bending down picking up every sheet of paper she could reach.

“Thank you and sorry for this,” Rin said in an usual giggly tone as she took the stack they had collected, placing them in the bureau before both women finally returned to their seats. It didn’t pass unnoticed for the blonde girl that, somehow, the sudden change in Rin’s demeanor suited her perfectly. At least, clearly better than the serious outlook that now Temari was sure. Seeing as the corners of her mouth lifted into a smile, the young psychologist forced herself to maintain for the sake of professionalism. “I usually keep the window open to have natural air in here. Those sudden strong winds are quite unusual during spring.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve seen worse by now,” Temari answered, settling herself in the furrow. “At this point even a blizzard seems like a soft breeze compared to a sand-storm.”

“I can imagine,” she mumbled as her gaze turned into the clock at her side, “It’s already time...But if you let me, we can do this.”

Temari looked at the Rin wearing a puzzled expression as the brunette took her notebook and tore one of its pages out and handed it to her.

“I’ll give you an assignment for next Thursday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and for all the support you gave me, motivating me to continue writing. Hope you enjoyed the little turn of evens. As always any comments, suggestions or critique is more than welcome. I read you. Love you all, stay safe! ❤️
> 
> Tumblr: @yourdesertsunflower


	3. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sight can be limiting, the vision is endless.

Hurriedly entering the black car once it stopped at the red traffic light, Temari shut the front left-seat door after stepping into the vehicle from the sidewalk, guaranteeing the interior of the car wouldn’t get wet. At least, not that much. 

The sudden chilly breeze had turned into a mighty primeval shower. The rain fell chaotically, the gusting wind carrying those heavy drops in wind vortices one moment and in diagonal sheets the next. Temari could still feel the remaining droplets running down her face as a thin layer as she entered to the car. As she did so, the dryness and coziness of the car’s interior welcomed her. 

Patting down her hair, she noticed it was completely mussed. Walking four meters between the Rin’s place to the car had left her completely soaking wet. And her hair wasn’t the exception. Besides, Japan night’s humidity hadn’t been kind with her coarse hair, the last predicament for the perfectly placed ponytails. She took out both of her ponytails, determined to fix them as she unfolded the sun visor. 

“You should have told me, I would have parked nearer.”

Her teal eyes finally met the eyes of her driver in the rearview mirror and she offered a sincere apology as the car moved over the highway, lights on full beam. The yellowed yet bright light of the light streets played in the droplets through the window’s car, showing this deluge, this flood from the sky, in apparently solitary drops.

The young man’s onyx eyes observed her as her soft blonde locks fell at her sides, framing her face and giving her a much softer look. Unlike him, it was rare to see Temari with her hair untied. Unlike him, whose long jet-hair was only tied up by a simple loose ponytail, she always sported her hair parted in the center, with two ponytails firmly tied up, leaving only her bangs to curtain her bright eyes. 

As Temari finally looked down, she finally realized his hands were extending silk towels. 

“I didn’t expect the sudden rain,” she said she accepted the cloth he handed her while trying to tie her ponytails. “Besides, you didn’t even need to do all of this for me. The least I could do was to come over here. Walking won’t hurt me.”

At these words, the driver let a small, almost muted sigh as he turned his sight to the road. The wind pushed on the car to no avail. We are going forwards and nothing but a blessed tragedy can change that. The tires made a monotonous hiss over the rain-washed highway, and the air that made its way through the filters were meadow-sweet. 

Some seconds of nothing but silence went through before the young man heard her voice cracking in through the wind. Low, with an agreeable trace of huskiness, yet powerful as always. 

“Thank you, Itachi.” 

Temari had already combed her hair back into two perfectly placed ponytails and her hand extended to him, a towel back to him. With one hand he reached for it as he tried to keep his eyes focused on the wet road. However, that didn’t prevent him to glance out of the corner of his eyes at her direction, his face gently beaming as he took the wet towel and threw it on the side sac.

“There’s no problem Tem,” he mumbled. “Not for you.”

Temari subtly smiled as she rested her arm by the window and looked outside. Maybe with another person she would have felt the pressure to continue with the small talk. Talk about trivial and fairly uninteresting matters; the weather, work and studies only for the conversation to not die out. For most of the time, the fear of silence was greater than eager to remain truthful to oneself. But not with him. 

Itachi was not only a good friend, but a pleasant company to keep. One with whom, even in the silence, she could find solace. 

Temari tilted her head to her left, mesmerized by the falling rain outside the car. The water descended like they simply couldn’t think of anything better to do. She had always found that there was something soothing about them. Despite their innate laziness, they barely bothered to conform to the will of gravity. Their dance with the wind had always he entrancing, calming. 

As a child, while driving through the calm streets of Tottori she would use to hold her bare arm out of the window as for the droplets to splatter on her outstretched fingers feeling the remnants of the drops running downwards like tiny little rivers ones she tilted her hand inside the dryness of the car. Sometimes while watching over rainy days she wondered when they stopped being that magical, or actually, when she stopped believing so. Now she only observed through the rigid frame, hearing the gentle tapping of raindrops against the window.

“Do you remember when we met?” 

His voice came in, drifting away from her thoughts. She recomposed and lay back on the seat. The radio volume was just below the level of his voice, allowing Temari to hear everything with the utmost of clarity. Besides, during those hours of day there was a considerable amount of traffic, however her voice was strong enough for the noise not to compete with him. 

“Yes. I told you you were pretty intelligent.” she recalled, smirking as she looked sideways, waiting for his reaction. “For a guy.”

Itachi chuckled, “I never expected you to be so outspoken.”

“What?” she asked demandingly. “Did I seem like a little crybaby?”

Hesitantly he shook his head, keeping his eyes over the road, composed as ever. Temari, stunned by the loss of words of her friend, turned over to face him, pressing for an answer. “Come on, say it. I don’t bite.”

“That is something even you don’t believe.”

His comment after his wry smile made her broke in laughter. Itachi looked at her, never ceasing in his wonder as she saw her smile. Her chuckle was so free and pure, so childish despite her adult years; despite everything she went through. The moments in which she let herself loose were rare, but when she did and he heard it as it came to through his ears as a tickle and bounce, he could do anything but join in such generous mirth.

“C’mon already, split it out,” said between her laughter. The slight crackle of the background music enhancing her words. “Tell me, what were you thinking?”

“The weather, it’s as rainy as it was that day,” Itachi recalled. The rain drops steady and soft, fell from a sky of white velvet and bounced in the windbreak. Almost immediately, the wiper came in handy, whipping and washing out every droplet. 

Temari looked estranged as she waited for him to continue with his point. As he saw her face, he sighed and continued, “When we first met, it was raining heavily and you somehow decided that the best thing to do was to share the stories of the Onibi.”

“I can’t believe you still remember that,” she snorted “It was just a children’s thing.”

At that moment she felt her phone buzzing. She opened and searched through her purse to find a message from her brother popping in her lock screen. As she read it, she could notice her eyes narrowed, rigid, cold and hard. When she finished reading and put the phone back in its place.

“Something is wrong?” Itachi asked. He already knew the answer to that question. Given her face, there was obviously something going on. Temari could easily conceal what she didn’t want to say out loud, but her face, her eyes, would always reflect her inner thoughts and feelings. If you were lucky enough to look through them, then you’ll know. 

“No, it’s just Kankuro.” Temari hissed

“Do they need someone to pick them up?” Itachi asked as he moved the car sideways through the highway. If Kankuro and Gaara needed a ride, then he must take down the following exit. 

“No, no worries,” the blonde hurriedly stopped him. “He just said they’ll be late. Something about Gaara finishing a group project and his basketball practice being delayed.” 

“Then, what’s the problem?”

_“Thank you for everything, Ms. Nohara,” Temari genuinely said as the young woman opened the door of her personal study into the hall. Both women started walking alongside each other towards the nearby door._

 _“Please Temari,” Rin softly said as looked for the door’s key within her heavy packed chain. “I told you before. Let’s cut those unnecessary formalities, call me Rin.”_

_“Then, thank you Rin.” the blonde said, greeting her goodbye with a slow bow. Now, with the door wide open, she put a step forward outside the study, gazing overlooking for Itachi’s car. But just when she was about to leave, Rin’s voice called her._

_“Temari,” her voice was gentle but bear the strength to make the blonde turn back at the call of her name._

_“About the assignment.” Rin began. “It’s not obligatory. It shouldn’t feel like a chore. Just do it when you feel like it or don’t do it at all.”_

_“Don’t worry Ms. - I mean, Rin.” Temari said, almost cutting her off. “I’ll have it ready for next Thursday. I promise.”_

_Rin’s lips lifted upward, crinkling her dimples in her cheeks. The way her teeth perfectly aligned. The warm glow her happiness gives. Her smile was like a ray of sunshine, and Temari couldn’t help to feel angry with herself as she was it. She didn’t want to envy her happiness, for there was nothing she hated more. But as she saw such a genuine and perfect, joyful display, it was the only thing she could feel._

_“Well, if that’s what you want.” Rin replied as, like a drum-roll, the upcoming thunder interrupted her._

_From the door’s frame she could see the clouds gathering, a silver-fade, from the strongest of grey to soft whites, which commanded the otherwise bright blue sky of that spring day._

_“I think you got to go, unless you want to get wet,” she continued after the thunders ceased. “I will take you myself, but it’s my responsibility to close the consulting rooms today. If you got time to wait maybe -”_

_“Thank you, Rin. Still, there is no need to.” Temari thanked as her head pointed towards a black car at the end of the street. “They are already waiting for me.”_

_“Well, see you next week then,” she added, tenderly nodding her goodbye handing her a piece of paper taken from her notebook. “Take care.”_

Temari looked down as she took a folded piece of paper from her purse, showing it to Itachi. 

“I thought I could do Rin’s assignment when I got home,” she smirked, slightly tossing around the sheet of paper in her attempt to mask her irritation. “But my brothers left me again with all the chores and cooking.” 

“You know,” he said, looking at her sideways. “I could help you with that and then you’ll do both.”

“No, no. I can’t ask you that.” she denied, as she took both of her hands and brought them to her temples. “You’ve already done way too much for…”

Suddenly she couldn’t say anything. Words wouldn’t leave her mouth. Fixated, her eyes couldn’t leave the approaching iridescent blue light that approached them from the front. Distance was all that mattered, it was a sure crash for the approaching object is not stopping for anything nor anything will stop them. It was all a question of seconds. A small fraction of a moment that appeared to be hours. Everything ambled as if it was being captured frame by frame in her mind, with no detail escaping from her. 

She looked at her side towards Itachi, but he seemed to haven’t realized nor assumed their death. He didn’t scream nor got out of control. Calmed as ever turned the direction to the left, trying to avoid the collision as the light consumed them.

But it wouldn’t be enough. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she was sure. She knew it wouldn’t be enough. 

But she couldn’t do anything. She was impotent. Though she tried to, she couldn’t move a single limb of her body. She tried repeatedly, her hand trembling at any direction her brain gave them. It seemed like nothing would make them move. Not that she would have been of any help either. No one prepared her for something like this to happen. Temari could only do what her instinct told her, but no. She felt completely consumed by a well-known darkness, approaching death at a rapid speed, impotent. 

Tears started forming in her eyes. 

She couldn’t do nothing. 

Again. 

Abruptly and unknowingly she pounced towards the driver’s seat, taking in one hand gear leveler and in another the steering wheel. As if she were possessed, she rushed to reverse the car’s direction while she changed the gear with the other one. 

The car’s tires hissed as she finally returned the steering wheel to his owner, patting uncontrollably as she let herself loose over her seat, trying to calm herself down. They had almost brushed the right side of the other car before the later, completely loosing its control, ended up stranded in the rode’s shoulder; the beaming light suddenly being forgotten in the shadows. 

Their heavy breaths filled the air as Itachi recomposed and kept driving forward, leaving the chaos behind. Temari let out a long sigh as she shivered. She looked into her friend’s onyx eyes, knowing they both were too shocked to mutter even a single syllable. Temari had never felt as close to death before. She had never experienced that darkness and impotence, but also the abrupt sense of inclemency towards herself in her own actions. She was always clear and determined in her intentions, she always drew within the line, but now that she just roughly touched perimeter she felt completely out of herself. 

No, it was clear enough for her.

She had never experienced something like that. 

Not since that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, hopefully it was of your liking. Next weeks I'll be with finals but, hopefully, after that I'll have more time to write and hence, I'll most likely be more persistent with my uploading schedule. As always any comments, suggestions or feedback is more than welcome. Feel free to comment your thoughts, I always read. Hope you have a nice day! ❤️
> 
> Tumblr: @yourdesertsunflower


	4. Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tragedy of life is rooted to it’s mere conception: it can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.

“What was that back there, Shikamaru?”

Naruto’s repeated questions persistently followed him as he lit a cigarette and slightly pressed it in his mouth, hoping that the nagging would somehow stop as the trail of smoke lingering from his mouth.

The sun was setting on the horizon, almost calling it for the day. They were lucky the spring shadow had already ceased, leaving just the wet pavement as traces of it’s short yet robust impact, prolonging daybreak. As he arrived at the alley, Shikamaru abruptly stopped his drained pace and turned around towards a friend who suddenly silenced as he finally faced his body. Naruto’s big blue eyes searched for Shikamaru’s without result. Those brown eyes remained pegged in the descending sun that was tinting the world in a soft palate while the last sunrays of the day reached the heathland.

“What do you want Naruto?” His voice was husky as he leaned over the alley walk’s brick wall. His thin lips wrapped around the tube once again, inhaling the nicotine. Even after all this years, smoking was the one and only vice he could never stop himself from partaking. 

“Just explain what happened back there,” Naruto finally spoke. He knew it to be useless to just keep on asking the same repetitive question.

“There’s nothing to explain,” he muttered as the residents of smoke sneaked through his mouth and danced through the air, forming small curls in the gloom, trespassed only by a weak ray of sunshine.

When Naruto was about to answer, some voices at the distance drifted through his ears. It wasn’t weird to hear loud chatters at that hour of the day. The daybreak was almost perfectly positioned, which meant that, most likely, many Shinigami would gather round that spot.

“Shikamaru I’m not stupid,” he whispered, bringing himself closer to his friend. Even he could tell that being heard could bring them in some big trouble. “You saved them.”

Shikamaru mumbled something and resumed his walking. Naruto wasn’t able to catch his words, but he didn’t doubt he was nagging about him being troublesome. It was then, while Shikamaru was leaving him behind, that everything became clear.

“She is the girl.”

Shikamaru’s sudden stop as his face tilted downwards, facing the floor, said it all. The man gave a small sigh as his friend, surprised by his lucky strike, continued.

“So, she is. The girl from the hospital.”

“Yes.”

“Man, I told you, back on that day,” he softly but seriously ranted “And now you just come up and save her —”

“I didn’t save her.”

Naruto looked at his old friend, who was now walking away from him, knowing that if this stupid no brainier game of his continued, he’ll most likely end up bursting into tears, but unsure if these would be of laughter or anger. There were so many things they’ll lose if he continued this game.

“Like I would believe that”

Shikamaru simply shrugged as he approached, “Why wouldn’t you?”

“They would have died if you didn’t interfere,” Naruto pointed out, as if Shikamaru this little detail wasn’t obvious enough.

“No, he was,” Shikamaru corrected, taking a string with a rounded labradorite, not bigger than a hazelnut, out of his deep green yukata. Though he had never seen it, Naruto immediately knew what it was, The Fourth Stone. When entering contact with his palm, the stone lit up, displaying in clear detail the scene as he explained everything.

“The other car was gradually slowing down, not as much to avoid the impact but as necessary to lessen the damage,” he continued manipulating the angels, speed and dimension of image to his own liking “The car was shifting its edge to the left, protecting the person who was in the companion’s seat.”

As he finished saying this, he let the visual proceed, revealing the inevitable impact. The car flipped at least two times before grounding flat on the pavement. Naruto could devise the blonde girl, now a woman, groan in pain as she recovered consciousness. Blood fled from her mouth as she coughed, her eyelids fluttered revealing through their teal color a flame irradiated at the distance. A siren suddenly interrupted the crisp sound of rain on metal as her eyes revealed blue and red flickers. The police were there. Now conscious, the woman struggled to free herself, only to reward with more pain for her effort. Finally, she saw it. Right next to her, Itachi Uchiha lay dead, his eyes opened and covered in blood.

An immediate strangled cry preceded by the sudden realization suffocated every other sound in the air. Her bawl only grew bigger as the police and paramedics surrounded the scene. No tear needed to fall from her eyes for Naruto to know. It devastated her.

“Yes, she most likely was going to get heavily injured. Probably, she’ll have several physical and motor issues and let’s not even talk about the psychological effect it might have for her.” his tone was scarily expressionless as he paused the image, his eyes fixed in the projected image; the fire lighting his eyes. “But the key is here.”

With a single swing of his hand, Shikamaru had brought back the image to where it was seconds before, just before the car crash.

“The car was shifting to the left, causing a direct clash against the driver’s door,” he explained, putting away the stone and hurrying his pace. “He would have taken all the impact.”

“Then why are you here?” he patted, trying to catch up with Shikamaru’s pace, both physically and intellectually.

“I have unfinished business in this world,” he explained as he used his teeth to make a small slit in his thumb, letting some blood run through his finger. He made some hand signs before taking his damaged hand and placing it over the brick world. Simultaneously, a metallic door materializes in front of their noses, cutting with the monotony of the graffitied urban brick wall that predominated throughout the alley walk.

“It’s a drag, but it seems I will stay here till sunrise.”

Naruto turned his face sideways. Part of his unruly blonde hair sneaked through the heavy black hood as he doubtfully looked at Shikamaru.

“Is it that bad?”

As he asked that, Shikamaru swiftly opened his yukata, taking out his right arm, showing off the intrinsic design that wrapped his arm. A constant reminder of the tortuousness sentence to which they convicted Shinigamis. In the eyes of any normal individual, the design could easily pass for a simple tattoo. One of those humans would get when wasted without that much of a second thought. But it could never be so from what it was; at least for them. As tattoos, in their more technical sense, are all temporary, even permanent ones. These were scars. Those marks where things and doings no Shinigami would have ever asked for. Like if it were a journal, their story, a story that most of the time they wish they could forget now become imprinted in their bodies.

Each Shinigami’s scar was unique. The trail it left depended on their performance and of the family they served. It was common knowledge between Shinigami´s that the starting point of this scar reflected the past life of the holder. Regularly they start at one chakra point within the body, and extend through one section of the body, more often than not covering it in its entirety. But there were seven of them that possessed that root in one of the main chakra points, those were the guardians of the Kamigamo Stones. While Naruto’s resembled a spiral that comes out from the maṇipūra and extended through his chest, Shikamaru’s scar’s root was in the anāhata and extended through both arms. Almost at the height of Shikamaru’s right arm wrist, Naruto could see a line being carved slowly but steadily, parting away from a small bird.

A small deviation that showcased the end of the mundane terrestrial journey of one soul.

“So it is.”

Quickly covering up his arm and getting rid of his finished cigarette, Shikamaru finally reached the handle of the well-known door that steered them towards Makyō.

No neon sign declared the position of the spot which was the state between all the different known realms, explored or not: a decrepit and hollow place, a hellhole, a bar dumped in the abyss of solidly founded realms and maybe, the only place in which, those like them, could taste the sweetness of the freedom they once lost, at least, until the bitter night fell. A place sought by Shinigami neither for the awful attempt of rock sounding music nor the jangle of voices which competed with it to dominate the atmosphere. Not even the fried food or the rounds of drinks in some good company, all of which fall irrelevant in the immense confines of the immeasurable and infinite limits of time and space.

As everyone there, at least for a fraction of a moment, they could deceive themselves and drown themselves into the appealing mundanity of an uplifting instance of nothingness. The place and moment between heaven and hell before returning to their job. That was the true nature of Makyō

As the smoke in the air, Shikamaru soaked and swooped in between the warm masses of chattering smiles and laughter as he finally reached and stooped below the wooden beams that crossed the ceiling before falling onto the bar stool. Naruto, who was following his steps, arrived just seconds behind him, taking a place beside Shikamaru as he motioned his hand to call for the server.

The bar stool curved into the irregular shaped wall offering a display of the most varied drinks whose colors brighten up the barely lit room. At the right side wall windows whose diamond pattern panes trickled, the fiery light of the falling day and the growing sallow beam of the street-lamps of Tokyo. Towards the left a single door, stylized in a simple straightly cut dark wooden frame. The exit that led them back to Kamigamo.

“In what trouble are you going to get yourselves in now?” Izumo asked as he handed them their usual drinks. As always, Kotetsu was just right by his side wiping the stool, ready to serve the other customers which hurriedly approached the bar.

If something, despite how bothersome their interest over other’s lives might be, Shikamaru would admit he quite envied Izumo and Kotetsu. Being able to just fool around all day, guarding the Makyō Abyss, sounded way better than delving into the human world. A trouble-less average immortal life. The same old wrecked furniture, the same drinks with the same dulled color and taste, and the same Shinigami coming in and out of that metal door. Everything remained unaltered. Well, except for the odor. That definitely changed over the centuries. Once it was of cigarette smoke only, the perfume that clung to clothing, skin and furniture alike, and that could still be if it wasn’t for one simple detail; beer. Now it was stale beer and body odor which predominated; not a progression in Shikamaru’s book, but definitely a minor change if you looked at the entire picture.

“Trouble? Who said trouble?” Naruto said as he awkwardly laughed and took a full gulp of sake. “By the way, have you seen Neji or Shino running around here?”

“Destiny boy was just here seconds ago,” Izumo answered with a soft sigh “He left with a girl with space buns.”

“You know, the new one,” Kotetsu added, his playful tone hinting at what the other Shinigami already inferred.

“And Insect Guy left at sunrise.” Izumo continued. “Hasn’t returned yet.”

Naruto grunted as he left the glass, now empty, on the stool “” “It’s Thursday. We should all be here. We promised that. Really, who needs enemies when you have friends like this? They all just leave me alone without prior notice.”

“I’m here,” said Shikamaru

“Yeah,” Naruto muttered as he extended his hand, asking for more sake that Kotetsu gladly served him more invested in the conversation than in the actual act of pouring the drink. “But I need someone who doesn’t depress me every time I see him.”

“I’m not depressed.” Shikamaru stated, his eyes went back and forth between those present until they finally stuck in Kotetsu. “Am I depressing?”

The guard uncomfortably chuckled. A muffled cry for a bloody speed ceviche at the distance, opportunely gave him a chance to exit the conversation. “I gotta go guys, I got other customers to serve. See ya later.”

Kotetsu quickly reached the other side of the stool, leaving his partner alone against the piercing glare of Shikamaru.

Izumo looked around before pointing at his old friend and shortly replying, “Same as him.”

The lamentable sequence triggered who Naruto bluntly bursted into laughter, throwing some sake out of his glass, “Believe it.”

Shikamaru just sighed as he looked down, staring at the amber swirling liquor between his palms, “Cause Neji and Shino would definitely do better.”

“You know,” Naruto said, relatively calmer. “Neji has those mystical sayings about destiny and the circle of oppression that I never fully understand. And Shino, well, he got that weird obsession with bugs. But they have passion, something that you have been lacking since a couple centuries may I say.”

“Then why do you stick around with me?”

“Cause you’re my friend Shikamaru. Almost like a brother.” the blonde said sincerely. “You guided me when I came here. Maybe it’s my time to guide you.”

Shikamaru raised his eyebrows, unable to answer back. He remembered when he met him, a young man unsure of himself, scared of himself. It was funny to look at him and admit he may be right.

“You are as troublesome as humans.” Shikamaru said between a chuckle while he lit up yet another cigarette, adding up to the hazy cloud, lingering, spiralling in stagnant air.

“Well, we can’t say we are much different.”

“But we can’t say we are like them either,” he said as he inhaled the grey stench that tried to escape from his mouth. “We never were.”

“But she is, isn’t she?” Naruto casually said, much to Shikamaru’s astonishment. “Why so surprised? It doesn’t take a genius to notice Shikamaru.”

“When?”

“Back at the youngest birth. I could sense it in the air,” he explained. “There was something wrong going on there.”

Shikamaru looked at him estranged, “Something wrong?”

“I don’t know, it’s just how I felt back in the day.” Naruto mumbled while taking another sip from his drink. “You know I am not with those theoratical stuff.”

“It’s theoretical Naruto. And yes, I know,” he corrected his friend “Speaking of which, be more careful with the rasengan. Users should hide their Hidens, you know, it’s part of their grace. If you keep with those flashy displays, you’ll get caught.”

“But I never did,” he stated. Shikamaru couldn’t deny that, after all, it was true. At least for now.

“You got lucky,” he said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and placing its scraps in his ashtray. “The car’s lights correctly dissimulated your technique, and then you got that nonsense story spread out by Lady Tsunade ‘bout the Onibi to cover you up.”

“Yeah, got to thank grandma for that one,” Naruto recalled with a grin on his face. “You really know how to turn things around; don’t ya?”

“I’m serious, Naruto. Someday those won’t work,” Shikamaru spouted “Humans aren’t as stupid.”

“And I am also serious Shikamaru. I’m telling you this as a friend,” he said in the same fashion, before modulating, “Keep - Your - Distance.”

Shikamaru grunted before taking the cigar and placing it midway through his lips.

“I didn’t think I would need to resort to this, but okay. If that is what you please,” the blond sighed as he took a small pocketbook from his yukata. “Code of the Shinigami, section two, paragraph a ; A Shinigami must never reveal their identity nor share personal or professional information with creatures al—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Shikamaru blurted, “I know all that troublesome shit.”

Naruto looked at his friend as he put away the book. He still remembered when Shikamaru gave it to him, centuries ago assuring him that though a drag that code would be of some help for him in the future.

“We are terrible at this; aren’t we?”

Naruto’s unexpected question triggered a small chuckle for Shikamaru.

“Yeah, you could say so,” Shikamaru agreed, taking a first sip of his own drink. “But we can’t lie around crying about it either. After all, it was our choice.”

Shikamaru’s sight turned from his wrist, which had now a clearer line drawn to the window. The sun had almost set, and the other Shinigami were parting. Even if they wanted to say something else, they had little to no time left.

“We should get going, you especially if you want to go unnoticed by Lady Tsunade, it’s getting dark,” Shikamaru said as he stood up and stretched, leaving his drink almost untouched. “We probably only have seconds till night reaches us. Is not like we can keep sunset going forever.”

“Right.” Naruto agreed, verging towards the door that would lead him back to Kamigamo. Seeing his friend leave, Shikamaru did the same, but when he was going to grab the handle, the voice of Naruto made him draw back.

“Shikamaru.”

“What?”

Naruto looked at him like if he were trying to find the right words to convey himself “If she would not die, why would you interfere?”

Shikamaru faced down to the ground, thoughtfully trying to find the right answer for his question.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he continued “I am glad he didn’t die but one part of me just wants to get over with all of this.”

Naruto looked back at his friend. It was indescribable, but somehow his expression had changed. But it all became clear when he looked into his eyes. Without the need of an external source, his eyes were lighten; bright as he hadn’t seen them in years.

“I know nothing can save them from death, but at least we can save them from living without meaning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone called for Shikamaru? Here you got him. I just hope this wasn't that confusing for you all. It's a lot of info and I was unsure if it could be easily assimilated in one chapter. Also this chapter was a little bit longer than the other ones, mainly because of the exposition. The other chapters are around 2k and this was around 3k which isn't that much of a change with longer chapters but is quite a change in my case. I really don't know which format you prefer of this long of a chapter was - no pun intended - dragging. I just can't thank you enough for tagging along with me in this ride. From now on I'll be updating 1/2 times a week this story. As always, any feedback is welcomed. I can't wait to read your thoughts. Stay safe! ❤️
> 
> Tumblr: @yourdesertsunflower


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